The Dragon
by Gemini's-Disaster
Summary: After being captured by beings she doesn't understand, nineteen year old Hermione is sold as a slave to the Malfoy family. As she learns to cope with her new existence Hermione suddenly finds herself committing the ultimate sin, falling in love with the dark and devilishly handsome Draco. With war looming outside their window what will become of their torrid affair?
1. Enslaved

**Dear Reader,**

**I am very excited to present the first chapter of my story, The Dragon. I know that many "slave" stories have been written that involve both Hermione and Draco but I wanted to write one with a bit of a twist. In this world Hermione does not know that magic exist until she is captured and sold to the Malfoy family. I plan for her to discover power through Draco's eyes. This, as you can imagine, will lead to some very interesting character development and situations.**

**I ask that you please review. I will try to answer any questions you have in an update preceding the following chapter. If you have any ideas or suggestions I beg that you let me know also.**

**Thank you for all of your love and support. I hope that you enjoy reading the story as much as I have enjoyed writing it.**

**Love Always**

**J.D.**

* * *

Strong iron clad gates and dark grey stones surrounded me, crushing what little hope that I still held deep within my soul. The sound of my own footsteps against the cobblestone pathway echoed throughout my skull. Icy wind whipped through my hair and caused my cheeks to burn with such intensity that I wanted to scream out in pain. The entirety of the environment I now found myself in was evil. There was no other way to describe such a place.

"Mione…I'm…I'm cold."

The child whom I clung to couldn't have been more than seven years old. It was a shame that I didn't know much about her. She had lived through the same horrors as I, plucked from the arms of her loving family and forced to enter into a world that she knew nothing about. It had been three days since we had been bought, part of the same purchase that was to be delivered to an extremely powerful and influential family. The girl was beautiful. There was no denying that at one time she was full of life. Considering all things she had been extremely calm up until this point in time. I assumed she had already cried all the tears that her small body allowed.

"Hush now Kizzie. Everything is going to be alright."

"Do not test my patience muggle scum. I have no time for your games. Keep moving."

Firm hands pushed against my lower back, forcing me towards the shadowy mansion that loomed before me. The man who had come to fetch us could better be described as a creature with a blackened heart. His blistering red hair reached far past his shoulders and I could tell by the amount of oil it held that appearances were not his top priority. His coal grey eyes were hidden behind an ancient pair of wire-rimmed glasses and although he was trying to be discrete I could feel his cold stare scan across my body with every chance he got.

I felt as if I had been home only hours before, sitting on the floor reading while my parents enjoyed a cup of steaming hot tea by the fire. It was then that death had attacked. There was no other way to describe it. Dark beings had descended from the sky, creatures so file that the great Edgar Allen Poe would have fainted upon the sight of them. I had been blinded by a thick white mist, unable to see anything as I heard my parent's final screams escape from their throats. Cold hands gripped around my wrist, sending energy through my body the likes of which I had never know. I didn't stand a chance. Within moments I had been enslaved by darkness.

I am uncertain of how much time I spent shrouded in sleep. When I finally awoke I found myself in a small dark room with Kizzie as my only companion. Although she was young she had managed to tell me that the same strange events had occurred in her home and claimed that she had been drug away from her dying parent's bodies, kicking and screaming for her life. Kizzie later told me the creatures that captured us were called "Dementors", dark souls that prowled the earth praying upon the weak and defenseless. Dementors had the ability take the soul of any human they could find, leaving behind nothing but a lifeless shell. She insisted that the creatures worked for only the most powerful witches and wizards, beings that held more power than she and I could ever understand. What strange and twisted nonsense from such a young and terrified child.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of my own shoes tapping against a brilliant marble floor. I had been in such a daze that I had failed to realize our guardian had already led us into the foyer of the grand estate. My eyes widened as I turned my head both left and right, trying desperately to take in all of my surroundings. Velvet green tapestries hung from the walls, covering the windows so no amount of natural light would ever be allowed to enter. A grand wooden staircase made its home in the center of the room, teasing me with its utter brilliance. The room held an enchanted aura, one that tickled at my wildest fantasies. Still, I considered myself smart enough to know better. This house held an evil precedence that was strong enough to depress any joy or hope that I had held onto.

"Ahh…Master Malfoy. I was unaware that you would be home to greet us. I would like to introduce you to your newest property."

The stoic man who emerged from the shadows would have had a handsome face were it not for the fact that his expression was as harsh as stone. I immediately found myself intrigued by his peculiar choice in attire. Although the summer months were fast approaching the man had made the unusual decision to wear both dark leather gloves and a flowing satin cape. He looked like a vampire, rising from the grave to claim his next victim. Platinum blonde locks escaped from his scalp, his misty eyes never leaving mine as he made his approach.

He advanced towards Kizzie first. Every cell in my body burned with rage as he examined every inch of her body. She was so young, still just an infant in the eyes of the world. It was barbaric; her silent tears were proof of that. She was terrified and it seemed to me that she had every reason in the world to be.

"Take this one to the kitchens. I'm sure Lilith will find some use for her."

It happened so fast. Kizzie's cries echoed through the halls as the red-headed man grabbed her tightly around her wrist, dragging her away before I could comfort her in any way.

"Mione! Mione…don't…don't let them take me!"

Her screams rattled throughout my bones, the image of her dark brown eyes burning in my mind. Despite my better judgment I showed no reaction. I was smart enough to realize that any move I made would only call the poor child more pain and suffering. I sucked in the cold and stagnant air, forcing myself to simply look ahead.

"Do not fret muggle. I can assure you that the young girl will be well taken care of. Master Jonas is careful not to damage any of my acquisitions. Force is only to be used when you disobey my commands as well as those of any who claim my name."

His speech flowed easily from his mouth, his words like honey which had been spiked with vinegar. Muggle? There was that word again. I had begged Kizzie to relinquish its definition but she had refused saying that it was a term only those with blackened hearts used within their daily vocabulary.

"You must be in such a state of shock, taken from your parents at such a young and impressionable age. I can't imagine that you could be over twenty."

"I…I'm nineteen."

"I see. Such a delicate time in one's life. Your mind must be reeling with confusion. I understand. Those who have no magic in their blood are generally naive to the true power that lies in the world around them. My kind live in the shadows, watching everything that the small and insignificant insects like you try to accomplish. Your people are nothing."

Everything he said melted together until it was impossible for me to make sense out of any of it. Magic? There was no such thing. These people were delusional, participants in an underground society or cult that practiced slavery as a means of gaining false power over others. The creatures I had seen during my parent's death were simply the side effect of seeing such a horrible action take place, a physiological mishap somewhere deep within my mind. I had been drugged. That was the only conclusion. It had only been coincidence that Kizzie and I had experienced the same hallucination. Her stories were fantasies, her own special way of explaining what had happened to her. This was the only explanation.

"You have promising features my child. Young women spend so much time trying to be something they're not. They waste away all aspects of perfection. Natural beauty is hard to come by these days. I am pleased to see that you have not attempted to correct yourself. Still, I can see that the execution does need some work. Jonas?"

"Yes Master Lucius?"

Jonas appeared without hesitation, bowing before his employer. How was it possible that he had been able to enter the room without my noticing? From what I could tell the mansion was vast and wide, sounds echoed easily throughout his passageways. Kizzie's screams had verified this theory only moments before. There was no logic in his standing before me.

"Clean the girl up and have her presented to my son. She is my gift to him, a token of my appreciation and acknowledgement of his decision to once and for all join our cause."

"With pleasure sire. I am sure that Draco will find great use for this one."


	2. Transformed

**Dear Reader,**

**Wow. I didn't expect such a positive response. Thank you to everyone who left a review. I am so very grateful for all of your kind words. This story has already been added to the "Favorites List" of nine readers and is on the "Alert List" of sixteen. I find this to be both exciting and encouraging. I am still looking for more reviews however. I love to hear from you guys so please leave me one and let me know your thoughts and ideas.**

**I haven't stated it yet but I have decided to make Draco a few years older than Hermione. I find this gives him more of a distant and forbidden feel.**

**Within the next few chapters I plan to have the story take a dark and dramatic turn. Be ready.**

**I hope this is truly different from anything you have read before. Thank you again for all of the love and support. Please remember to review.**

**All My Love,**

**J.D.**

* * *

I would be lying if I said that I was able to recognize the reflection that was staring at me from the other side of the elaborate jewel encrusted mirror. My once tangled locks now formed beautiful satin curls that dripped over my shoulders like a waterfall of caramel and honey. Juno, the portly dark skinned woman who had been in charge of my transformation, had insisted on cutting my bangs so that they gently swept across my eyebrows. According to Juno, Master Draco was very fond of this particular style and often requested that his private servants adorned the look.

I had been stripped from my tattered t-shirt and jeans, my body bathed in a strange liquid that smelled of intoxicating foreign spices and perfumes. A simple black garment had been draped across my body, synched in at my waist by a flowing green sash. Three golden bangles had been placed upon my right wrist, a symbol stating that I worked for the Malfoy family as a private slave within their household. I was to wear them at all times.

I was alone now. The private suite which I found myself in was immaculately decorated. After everything I had seen did I truly expected it to be anything less? My eyes were immediately drawn to a large wooden bookcase standing against the far wall of the room, its volumes crying out for me to investigate. Despite my better judgment I made my way towards the elaborate structure.

Magic. Every title held that word within its description. How strange? I had never heard about any of these authors from my mother. My fingers traced over the spine of every copy I caught sight of, my hand finally coming to rest on a novel which seemed significantly out of place.

"Jane Eyre?"

I took the book from the shelf, blowing off the dust which seemed to cake its cover. The idea of the story itself awoke many memories that I had buried deep within my being. The classic tale of the governess and her wealthy employer had always transfixed me. I had become engrossed within its pages several times. It had been the first piece of English literature that I had read without my mother's aid.

I often considered my mother to be one of my greatest influences. Culture had always been important to her and it was because of this that I found myself reading both Shakespeare and Voltaire years before any of my classmates. It had bothered me at first. I had been unable to wrap my head around many of the ideas and concepts. Still, my mother convinced me to carry on with my studies and I soon realized that I truly enjoyed escaping into the pages of any world that was unlike my own.

"Do you always rummage through the personal belonging of those in a higher position that yourself?"

I turned to find myself entrapped within the gaze of a pair of icy blue orbs. The young man whom they belonged to was staring at me with such intensity that I felt as if my flesh were going to evaporate from my body. He wore only a pair of flannel grey pants, his pale arms and torso exposed to the world. His platinum blonde hair corrected any confusion about his identity. This was Draco Malfoy.

My eyes were instantly drawn to the mark which adorned his left forearm. The depiction of a skull with a snake escaping from its mouth only added fuel to my theory that the family I now served under was nothing more than a pact of sadistic devil worshipers. Yet, there was something strange about this tattoo. It appeared to be moving. Perhaps I was hungrier than I thought?

"Did you not hear me ask you a question? Speak."

The idea of appeasing his request was humiliating. I wanted to scream, to scratch his eyes out and escape from this torrid hell. Why did I not fight back? Had the exhaustion of my trials finally caught up with me? Did I subconsciously know that this family could kill both Kizzie and I if they wished to do such a thing?

"I…I'm sorry. I…I meant no disrespect."

My words were raspy, caught in my throat as they tried to make their way to his ears. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, my breathing slowed by the sudden bundle of nerves which had developed in my lower stomach. I listened as he took a step towards me, taking the book from my grasp and flipping through its pages before handing it back to me.

"Read it."

I was careful to place my thumb towards the center of the worn pages, trying my best to keep from losing the mark of the passage. It had to be well past midnight by now. The cool air from outside had begun to creep past the stone walls. Perhaps it was my imagination but the temperature in the room felt as if it had dropped significantly.

"_Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! — I have as much soul as you — and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh: it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God's feet, equal — as we are_!"

He circled me, as if her were a vulture waiting for its prey to breathe its last. I felt naked, unclothed by his constant and piercing stare. His breath was manly, coming from somewhere deep within his chest. I guessed that he must be around my age, possibly two or three years my senior. Despite all I had been through in the hours prior to this moment I felt myself drawn to him. There was something about him, something I couldn't immediately explain. He failed to show the blatant need for evil that his father had seemed to possess. The young man before me seemed more manipulative, cunning and calculating to the point of insanity.

"You seem well educated. What is your name servant?"

"Hermione. My…my name is Hermione."

"I see. You were no doubt named for the stories that come out of Greece. Is this true?"

I didn't speak but simply nodded in agreement. He seemed impressed. Most thought my name to be strange, insignificant for the time I was born in. I too had hated it when I was a child, begging my mother and father to call me by my second name instead. Eventually I learned the significance behind its meaning and grew accustom to the questioning looks I received because of it.

"You speak eloquently. However, I can still tell that you are made nervous by your new surroundings. Do I also make you nervous Hermione?"

Was he bating me? I bit might tongue, searching my brain for a response that he would find appropriate to the conversation at hand. Until I figured out his true motive I would have to force myself to play things safe.

"A slave is always nervous when her master is present."

His lips curled into a small but devilish smile. I could tell by his reaction that he had found my response particularly interesting. Had he been hoping that I would disagree with him? Was he, in fact, a dominant personality who was only looking for someone to overpower by fear? I found the notion both frightening and disturbing. He obviously had enough wealth to do whatever he desired.

"You are very clever Hermione. Intelligence is hard to come by in this world". His hand gestured towards the novel still clutched between my fingers. "Read it again."


End file.
